


O.O.C is Serious Business

by spae



Series: Dangerous Hobby [7]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, Gibbs is suspicious, M/M, Tibbs/Tommy (Deep Six) - Freeform, Tim is a tired puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 19:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15517338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spae/pseuds/spae
Summary: Getting through the day on not enough sleep is pretty bad all on its own; Tim tries it while working for Gibbs.





	O.O.C is Serious Business

The next morning, McGee got to work slightly earlier than normal. He’d stopped at the café on his way in, picking up various caffeine-filled delights for the team, and was lucky enough to find the bull-pen empty when he dropped off drinks on Gibbs and Ziva’s desks. He made use of the time to take a Caf-Pow down to Abby, but she wasn’t in her lab either, so he left it on the side and trudged back upstairs.

His own coffee was still damn hot, but it was nice just to breathe in the aroma and try and prepare himself for a day of Gibbs being horrendously toppy. No, _a day of work_. Hell. He really needed to get his shit in order. He couldn’t bring that into work.

It was his own fault, he ruminated, stifling a yawn and rubbing his face. Telling himself _just one more_ had done him no favours last night. He’d reluctantly shut the lid on his laptop at four-oh-three, having gotten engrossed in the _Caught-Out Casefiles_ series. They were very good; the plots were engaging and realistic, and although they were essentially a broad canvas for the daddy!kink he’d been searching for, they were primarily ensemble pieces. Tibbs was the star the rest of the cast revolved around, but they all had their time in the sun helping to solve crime, so much so that other agencies were forever trying to poach Gibbs’ team and driving the lead agent insane. Tim swallowed, remembering that second fic, where Tibbs had hauled Tony up against the wall of the dirty sewer he’d been chained in, and growled in his ear, “You forget you’re mine?—"

“—mine, McGee?”

Tim blinked rapidly, the words registering belatedly as Gibbs’ hawk-eyed glare came into focus.

“Um, Boss?”

Gibbs raised an eyebrow and his coffee.

Oh that. “Yes, Boss.”

“Well, don’t just sit there; got _work_ to do,” and Gibbs strode off toward the elevator hauling a go-bag over his shoulder.

McGee stuttered the lid onto his own coffee, grabbed his own bag and ran after Gibbs. He missed the elevator doors which Gibbs failed to keep open for him, and had to hot-foot it down the stairs after his impatient boss, only just making it to the car before it squealed out of the lot, Ziva at the wheel.

 

It was a day of many mini-stressors, and McGee found himself jumping at every terse word.

“Are you _listening_ to me, McGee?”

“Of course, Boss,” McGee looked up, startled.

“Just how _much_ coffee have you had today, McGee?”

“J-just the one, Boss?”

“Are you asking me, or telling me, McGee?” Gibbs frowned at him and held his hand out irritably.

Tim looked at it blankly.

“I said,” Gibbs said, with admirable patience. “Give me a large weapon tube. If you have the time.”

McGee flushed deeply and fished in his bag for the offending item, aware that Gibbs was watching him closely.

And thus the day went on, with Tim very much regretting spending the night reading slash fiction instead of getting the required amount of sleep to deal with Gibbs in Righteously Solving Crime Mode. If only Tony were here, he’d take Gibbs’ attention off of Tim, but he wasn’t, and it was maybe mid-afternoon before they got back to the office, where Gibbs headed straight down to meet with Ducky, sending McGee to Abby with the evidence.

 

“Hey Timmy,” Abby sing-songed at him, indicating the table she wanted the box on. It was large, clean and clear, and Abby began to take out the evidence like so many Christmas gifts, as if she was trying to decide which to play with first.

“Hey Abby,” he said wearily, slumping onto a bar stool which just happened to be right where he needed it.

She quirked her eyebrows at him. “You alright, Timmy?”

McGee lay his head on his arms. “I’m only tired. Didn’t sleep much. Haven’t eaten much. Gibbs has been on my case—”

“Awww, poor McGee,” Abby smirked down at him. “I can help with some of those things. I have red liquorice, sour gummy worms, wintergreen mints, Cadbury’s Crème Eggs, pretzel m&m’s, a jar of peanut butter and,” she lowered her voice to a stage whisper, “twenty-three mini-cans of raspberry Caf-Pow!”

McGee pulled a face at her offerings. “How about an apple, some water and a nap? You let Tony sleep down here!”

“He doesn’t diss my emergency rations!”

“I’m not dissing them!” McGee exclaimed, stung. “I just don’t _want_ them!”

They glared at each other for a moment, then Abby flounced away to start the Major on some spectrometry, so McGee closed his eyes gratefully.

“Why _are_ you so tired, anyway?” Abby crooned, a few minutes later, sorting the evidence into piles. “You got a girl I don’t know about?”

“No, I was reading fic on the _Dee_ —” Tim sat up in a hurry, eyes wide.

“McGee!” Abby breathed, her own eyes shining. “You dirty little _stop-in!”_

 Tim willed himself not to blush.

Abby cackled at him. “So you read a little _Amy_ /McGregor, hey? Maybe a little _Amy/Lisa_?” her eyebrows tried to waggle.

The blush was out of his control; he wondered if those were the things he _ought_ to have been reading.

“No?” she laughed harder at his terrible terrible poker face. “Was it _Tommy_ /McGregor?”

“It was _your fault_ ,” he gritted out, shaking his head at her last selection. “I may have looked at your website history … and _no_. It’d be _weird_ to read about myself anyway!”

“I thought they _weren’t related to persons living or dead_ ,” Abby quoted piously. She chuckled again, thinking of her own reading last night. “So you read some Tibbs/Tommy?”

“Ugh, _so much_ Tibbs/Tommy,” Tim groaned, putting his head in his hands and rubbing his eyes, completely missing Abby’s stunned expression.

“Oh?” she asked softly.

“Didn’t go to bed till four. Spent all morning wondering what happens next in this series I was reading.”

_“Timmy!”_

“Don’t look all shocked and righteous at me!” Tim expostulated, gesturing with his hands. “ _You_ were the one reading that bloody pirate fic – and _Tony’s_ apparently read it. I’m like _the last_ to know!”

“Oh. No,” Abby shook her head quite seriously, drawing herself up tall. “No, McGee. We’re the _only_ ones who know. And No One Else Can Ever Find Out!”

“I don’t _want_ anyone else to find out!” cried Tim fervently, suddenly realising that _Gibbs_ knowing this would start the Apocalypse.

“Okay, then,” Abby gave him a small smile. “Let me shut this door so we’re not interrupted, and you tell me what you read and why you just _had_ to stay up all night reading it instead of going to bed like the good little McGee you usually pretend to be.”

Abby tripped across the room in patent cerise platform boots he was only just noticing and shut the door to the lab, before beckoning him through to the inner lab for a chat while she worked.

“So, Timmy,” Abby sing-songed with a wicked grin. “What kept you reading long after One-Shot Tibbs hung up his hat and sailed off to an idyllic retreat with his pretty boy?”


End file.
